Thursday, September 24, 2009
learning to rise
I was healthy then. But also, I drank a lot.
It was the time of my life that made the most sense and yet was so hard.
I woke early every day. About 5:30 or 6:00. I was the one who made the coffee, who boiled the water for the rest of the crew. I was in charge of who did what in the mornings.
Some of the students had no interest in responsibility OR waking up. They were late every morning and sometimes got left behind. It was a terrible thing to be left behind for the professor got very angry.
The days were so long and hard. Survey all day – over mountaintops and saddles then down hills, up hills, and over fallen trees. Always hungry. Never full.
There was so much to see, so much to find on the ground. Always noticing small pieces of stone in the dirt. There was not enough time ever to see the panorama of peaks and snowy ridges that surrounded us.
It was not until night that we were capable of finally observing life. To see the stars sparkling in the expansive Wyoming navy of a sky. Sometimes we saw each other’s faces over the flames of a campfire, but mostly, sleepy eyed and dazy, we only saw the stars. And this is when I felt the most me. Learning to rise into myself and who I wanted to be.
Someone who wanted more from life than life had offered thus far and I was finding it at ten thousand feet, with the bears and the moon.